


The Story Behind the Pic

by YumYumPM



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:18:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1207444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumYumPM/pseuds/YumYumPM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written to go with the request for a story to go with Barbana’s delectable digital art</p><p> http://yumyumpm.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/1351/119829</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Story Behind the Pic

Solo lay flat on the dingy once white sheets as his partner draped his body over him, pumping away into him, filling him. He turned his face into the pillow stifling the moan of pleasure that would try to escape. Illya’s cock plunged into him one last time before the warm liquid flooded him causing a spasm of pleasure. He felt his partner slip from him and he heard rather than saw him dress and leave shutting the door behind him. All this was done in complete silence, not a word was ever spoken, not a kiss nor gentle touch given, everything simply detached.

He tuned over and flung one arm over his face as he jerked himself off. He refused to allow his partner to do more for him than he was already doing. It had been two years since Illya had reluctantly agreed to help stave off this overwhelming urge that haunted him on occasion. It didn’t happen often, this need, and he could count on the fingers on one hand the number of times they’d taken this step. He couldn’t help but wonder what his partner thought about this arrangement, if it affected him or was he as unchanged about it as he appeared. Though he normally managed to control his craving for the most part it always ended up with their meeting in places like this. Cheap motel rooms were you were charged by the hour. It was purely a business like arrangement, nothing was ever said, they simply disrobed and he’d go down on his partner wetting him before lying flat waiting to be pierced. The feeling of being filled and possessed in this manner was intoxicating and he wasn’t sure that even he understood why he enjoyed it so. Lately though it didn’t seem enough.

After cleaning himself off, he dropped the key on the nightstand and left the room to head back to his apartment.

 

The next day at work he met with his partner as they made their way to the office of their superior Alexander Waverly. Solo knew from experience that nothing would be said about what had occurred the night before. It was always that way and he respected his partner enough not to push for anything else. The two men entered and made their way to their customary seats, wondering what adventure they would be off to this time.

Alexander Waverly didn’t look at them. He merely sent a folder around to stop in front of Solo. Napoleon picked it up and opened it to find one item, a picture of the two of them showing the previous night’s activity. He placed the folder down on the table with the picture sitting there for all to see. Napoleon heard an intake of breath from Illya as he caught a glimpse of the picture.

“Mr. Solo, would you care to explain the meaning of this?” Waverly demanded.

“No, I don’t think I do. Care to explain that is,” Napoleon responded his manner serene.

“And you, Mr. Kuryakin, do you have something to say about this?”

Illya glance at his partner, amazed at how composed he appeared, as Solo reached out, catching his arm with his hand to stay his reply.

“He has nothing to say either,” Solo answered for him.

“Just how long has this been going on?”

“Just under two years, sir,” Napoleon said hesitantly but respectfully.

Waverly turned away while he considered. Two years! He’d seen nothing in their behavior to even suggest such goings on. Their work did not appear to have suffered; therefore he was inclined to make no action against them. Coming to his decision he turned back to the two men and said in his gruffest manner, “Off with you both.” 

Both men nodded respectfully before getting up and he couldn’t help but notice his senior agent pick up the picture and place it in his pocket and decided to make no comment.

 

That night Solo, wearing only a pair of white silk pajama bottoms, sat in his living room pouring over the picture he had purloined. There was only one dim light lit that illuminated the room as his finger went over the figure of his partner and he let out a sigh of longing. It wasn’t enough anymore to just meet and find relief… he wanted more. He wanted to wake up and find Illya still there, to caress the body of the compact Russian as he caressed the image in the picture, but he knew better than to ask for more and little by little it was tearing a hole in his soul.

A knocking came at his door and before he could get up to answer it, His partner, the inscrutable Russian, had entered. He was still wearing his black turtleneck under his grey suit. As he closed the door behind him he observed his bare-chested partner, the one dark hair dangling provocatively in his face stand to greet him, the compromising photo in his hand. Without saying a word he went over to him and took the photo away. He studied it clinically before asking, “Why did you do it, Napoleon?”

“Do what?” Napoleon asked, having his partner this near was sending tremors down his body.

“Send this photo to Mr. Waverly, of course.” Illya’s blue eyes darkened, he looked intensely at his friend as he handed the picture back.

Napoleons breath caught, how had Illya known? He closed his eyes; wanting more than ever to take his partner in his arms and do to him all the things he’d denied himself, feeling that he’d forced him into this to begin with. He opened them, imploring his partner to understand. I simply can’t go on like this anymore. I want more than you would care to give he thought to himself sadly before saying. “You don’t want to know. I’m sorry I ever forced you into this.” He paused before continuing. “Perhaps it would be better if you just left.” He turned away, his hand still clutching the photo as if clutching a cherished possession, and heard the door close leaving him alone. 

Illya had studied his partner closely before turning away and going to the door. He opened it but instead of leaving he just shut it again and stood there. He glanced over his shoulder as his partner slumped back in his chair and let out a painful sob. It had never occurred to him that his partner thought about their encounters as anything more then a release of sexual tension. Without realizing it he came to a decision and soundlessly headed for Napoleon’s bedroom. Once there he undressed in the dark and awaited his partners appearance wondering how long it would be. He’d drifted off to sleep when the light was flicked on and Napoleon said in surprise. “Illya!”

As he sat up, his blonde hair glowing in the light, the sheet slipped down displaying his undressed state. “Napoleon, you appear to be under a misconception. I have never done anything I didn’t want to do.” His blue eyes glowed with the lust he’d kept from showing in their previous meetings. 

Napoleon stood there in a state of shock. Slowly as in a trance he walked over to his bed and knelt on the floor his heart beating as Illya brought his hand behind his head to pull him close to claim his lips in the kiss that they had never dared complete. A kiss with all the passion he never would have thought the stoic Russian possessed. As strong hands removed his clothing and pulled him onto the bed he surrendered to the inevitable and joyfully took their partnership to the next level.

The End.


End file.
